


a need for flesh

by NatureGirl202



Series: all these sparks shall light a fire [kestrelan legacy] [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: F/M, dark sided character, this fic feels mediocre tbh but oh well lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 12:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16175171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatureGirl202/pseuds/NatureGirl202
Summary: //fictober18 prompt: "people like you have no imagination."she’s on a search, and there will be blood.





	a need for flesh

“What are you going to do?” spats the stupidest smuggler Andronikos has ever met. “Kill me?” That _must_ be what the man wants, because it’s what he’s going to get if he keeps talking to the sith like that. Really, a guy with that many scars must not have much of a self-preservation instinct anyway. He side-eyes Lily, her hand outstretched as she uses the force to hold the man up against the wall of the hangar; now littered with the bodies of those who’d been dumb enough to try and get in her way.

“People like you have no imagination” she drawls. Her head tilts, her fingers wiggle, and now the guy is choking, gagging, as blood starts to trickle out of his mouth. It’s a good thing Andronikos has a strong stomach, because he can see the movement of the man’s guts being rearranged inside him. He feels a small amount of sympathy for the guy, but he’d had his chance to avoid all this three minutes ago when they’d walked into the room.

The gagging stops after a moment and the man is limp now, incredibly pale, but obviously still alive. His breaths are shallow, pupils dilated with pain. Her hands drops, and so does the smuggler, falling to the ground with a thud.

“Now,” she begins, tone the same as when she asks the crew if they have any preferences for dinner. “Where is Heskal Higgins?”

He’s lost count of every time he’s heard her ask that question now. She’s been cutting through slavers lately like they were nothing—something he doubted the Empire would appreciate, but neither he nor she really give a shit about their opinion. Every time, this question came up. She’s been on some manic hunt for this guy since Yavin 4, when she’d met that Republic brother and Imperial cousin of hers she’d apparently known nothing about. Everyone else they’d met on that moon were all focused on the newly resurrected Emperor. Her? All she’s been after is this one guy and all he knows is that he’s the one that’d sold her into slavery when she was a young child. Normally bluntly honest with him, it was her skirting around the subject that let him know there was something deeper going on here. If she was just after the guy for simple revenge, she could’ve done it any time since she got that ship of hers. Nah, there was something else going on here.

They’d yet to get any solid leads, and he could tell it was eating at her. Her words were more clipped than usual, she was eating less, and was spending more time just staring out the cockpit window at the stars.

But then, the smuggler opens his mouth and coughs up an actual answer. 

* * *

When they reach the ship, she doesn’t even pause to return the greetings from the rest of the crew. She’s latched into his hand, dragging him with her, and his only response to Ashara’s questioning look is a shrug. They reach their bedroom and before the door has even finished sliding shut, she’s on him. Her hands are sliding under his shirt, nails digging into his abs, and her lips latching onto his throat. He groans, hands instantly clutching at her waist, and yeah, they should talk, but there’s always time for that _later_.

He hoists her up against him and as her legs wrap around his waist, his other hand tangles into her hair to pull her into a deep kiss. She nips his lip and gives a wicked grin as he carries her to the bed.

“You gotta tell me, sith,” he speaks, later, when their hearts and settled and their breathing evened. “Why are you so big on finding this Heskal guy?”

She stares blankly at the ceiling and her tone is bored when she answers. “He sold me into slavery. I told you this.”

He shifts onto his side, wraps an arm around her waist to bring her closer. He’s relieved when she lets him. She’s not angry, not at him anyway. “More to it than that. I’m not that dense.”

She sighs, running one of her hands over his chest, where his heart is. “He sold me into slavery.” Her eyes meet his, then, and there’s a deep confusion there. “And my mother.” She’s never mentioned her family aside from when she first told him they’d been sold into slavery with her. He’s gathered, since Yavin 4, that she actually didn’t even know of most of them.

He chooses his next words with more care than usual. “And your father?”

Her brow pinches. “I don’t know. I’ve no memory of him, barely any of _her_.”

She probably could’ve gotten all these answers from those long lost family members on Yavin 4. At least from the cousin. She was pretty big in Imperial intelligence, from what he’d heard. He knows she knows this, though. He also knows better than to bring it up. She’d gone out of her way to avoid them and the entire subject on that damn moon. “Why the sudden interest now?”

She blinks once, and her confusion melts away to a steely determination he recognizes immediately. “No more surprises.” 

* * *

Heskal Higgins is an obviously spoiled man. He talks through his nose, like all those other Imperials that think they’re so much better than everyone else. That’s probably why he’s having such trouble talking now, his nose being crushed and all.

Or, y’know, it could be the way she’s force choking the air right out of him, his face starting to turn blue. She releases him, then, just as he seems ready to give in to the lack of air. He crumples to the ground, gasping, unintelligible pleas for mercy falling from his lips. She rolls her eyes and a smirk flashes across his lips. You’d think they all would’ve learned by now how useless it was to plead with her.

“My mother” she demands. Heskal descends into a coughing fit and her foot begins to tap, hands perching on her hips. “I’m losing my patience.”

“Dead” Heskal manages to gasp out between coughs. “She was- _hck_ –killed in the Dromund Kaas rebellion.”

Her head tilts. “I see.” He watches her bottom lip briefly disappear between her teeth. “Thank you.” Heskal’s in the air then, slamming back into the wall again and again and again until the back of his head is nothing but a crushed, bloody mess and his eyes are wide, lifeless. She lets the body drop to the ground and she’s perfectly still, a beautiful statue in the middle of a room of death. He walks up to her slowly, hears her shaky breath when he slips his hand into hers. He entwines their fingers and her eyes drift shut. He gives her hand a gentle squeeze and a moment later she returns the squeeze.

Her eyes snap open then and she’s once again the relentless Darth Nox.

**Author's Note:**

> also on [tumblr](http://bxtgrl.tumblr.com/post/178687455917/a-need-for-flesh). <3


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